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The Grand Offensive (Siren's POV)
The End is Near... For over a decade, Corpus has lorded over reality with an iron fist, its power insurmountable and indestructible. But no more. Today, the brave men and women, those dauntless soldiers who still remember the old Earth, fight one last battle for its fate. They are Stronghold, and they will not flinch, nor falter. But when your enemy blots out the stars... what hope can you possibly have? ___ Siren released a deep breath as the transport was shaken yet again by a volley of laser blasters. It was a terrifying thing to know you could be blown out of existence at any moment and there was nothing you could do about it. For now, though she was simply thankful that the shields were holding, and that a majority of Corpus' attention was on the large armada of Tri-Kingdom Alliance. Siren had never been one for religion, especially not after the entire universe had fallen into the hands of tyrants, but she prayed for the Trussians, Cazathans, and Korribanites who were in those fleets. It was suicide, but it was the only way to get an opening for Stronghold forces onto the command ships. She prayed for everyone else in the transport, that they would arrive at their destination and complete their own task. She even prayed for the enemy... that they would get their just rewards and burn in an endless fiery pit for all of eternity. The German Shepherd didn't know if prayer worked like that, but she figured any morale boost was a good one. She felt a hand being laid gently on her shoulder. She turned to her right, seeing a canine completely covered in a black, high-tech jumpsuit, with white gloves and boots, and a helmet, goggles, and mask that obscured his entire face. Siren herself was wearing the same uniform, as were the other 18 agents of R.O.P.E. in the insurrection pod. The only thing that marked the agents apart, aside from body build, were small badges on their hearts and shoulders. This particular agent's crest was blue circuitry on a golden background, denoting the agent himself as Duke, Siren's partner in both war and love. "I'd say something encouraging, but, uh... wouldn't want to jinx us..." Siren managed a small chuckle. For all the darkness of the last decade, he'd been a point of light. Always there with a joke, or a movie reference, even when staring death straight in the eye. Others might take that as naivety. Siren knew it was because Duke was just as terrified as the rest of them, and, while he might allow himself to get depressed, heaven forbid he allow anyone else to fall into despair. That went triple for Siren herself. "Prepare for impact in 30 seconds," came the pilot over the intercom. The time for thoughts was over. Deep breath. Clear head. Check gun. Ammo full, grapple hook loaded, tactical sensors synced. Check belt. Extra ammo, extra grapples, grenades, medspray, knives, stims. Impact in 15 seconds. Survey room. All agents ready. Mission objective: Secure blackhole generator. Destroy if necessary. Activate HUD. Impact. Down the ramp. Area clear. Locate target. Run. Hostiles detected. Slow, raise rifle-aim-shoot-'kill'. Hostiles down. No casualties. Run. Mores soon...